Ides of Light
by Illyria.Rises
Summary: Gods don't tamper with mortals' lives. SI.


_**Ides of Light**_

_**Preface: ** First things first; wow. To be honest, I never thought I'd get to doing this – writing my own fanfiction; but after practically tearing through every single Game of Thrones story I found and suddenly finding myself staring at _Dreaming of Sunshine, _(by SilverQueen), my mind began toying around with the idea of having a try at these plot-changing character inserts, or for the latter's case, SI stories. And then eventually...this happened. Since this is a side-project/test I'm putting upon myself, the updates will be a bit haphazard until I get the hang of things. I'll stop now talking–er, typing now though so you can go on and read. Hope you like it~_

**Disclaimer: **_Is this still required..? Oh well. Naruto is not mine, (it is Kishimoto's), nor is any referenced game/show/item/etc._

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_**Ides of Light**_

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_Wh––where am I–I?_

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_...Father?_

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_Boisterous laughter, a late gasp, then silence._

_**Carefully treading through the gray mist, a grand hall opens up.**_

_He sits on an iron throne of dying red petals._

_**Tall candles sigh dark smoke into the air, the scent is pungent and perturbing. **_

_A red hand pierces the thick clouds surrounding his visage and come into view, they uncurl to drop a corpse onto the fallen tapestry. _

_**The trespasser stares – **_

_he laughs again._

_**The room turns dark.**_

"_Why do you persist?" the voice rumbles – _

_**white light pours from his pedestal.**_

_Finally, his whole appearance comes into view._

_**He sits on an iron throne of dying red petals, his skin is a deep rouge, and he is blind.**_

"_You have seen what most mortals have not, have lived longer than most," he pauses. "Why do you persist? Why does he offer you another chance?"_

_**The trespasser is silent, puzzled and wondering, then finally; "Who are you?"**_

_Laughter, again, but there is acid laced into the sound as fumes of purple seep from his mouth._

_**There are no words to describe the golden shaft materializing in his hand.**_

"_To many, hope," his unseeing eyes lock onto his trespasser's spot. _

"_**To you, life."**_

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" –let me see her!"

"Sir, you need to –"

"She's _mine._"

"Sir..."

"She's mine."

A strangled cry.

"She's mine."

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Home was never really home.

The rooms were always empty, it was always silent – no one was ever around.

After reaching the age of two, my father returned to work. Crisp green jacket on but never really zipped, shirt sleeves always rolled up and hair halfheartedly trimmed...It was around that time that I was introduced to Mitarashi-san.

She was a nice woman with a nice smile. She took care of me when father was away and brother could not. So I guess somewhere along the way, my mind began recognizing her as that motherly figure every child sought after.

"_-ma!" _

Even after having gone through this stage of life already, it was still hard to force my actual body to act on the motor skills that my old mind had kept through the years. What confused others and disappointed my father was the amount of time it was taking me to form the simplest words. So when this one pushed past my lips, I thought that I'd get some praise or at least a smile.

Instead I got tightly-pressed lips together and a pat on the head.

"_I'll see you tomorrow, Aki."_

Tomorrow stopped coming after I turned five.

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Loud squeals fill the air, a small body comes tumbling through the wooden doors, and her skin suddenly warms to a burn. It doesn't hurt, but she stares at the light bouncing off her arms. She doesn't go out a lot, but even she had never felt this hot before.

"_Come on!" _

Her attention flickers to the backyard where a child is mercilessly beating the ground. His fists occasionally glow, but she thinks its the sun shining just a little extra bright on her brother. He jumps back only to raise a fist at the ground again.

_Smash. _

Sigh.

"_Nii-san?"_

The brother stops, if only to spare a glance at his tiny sister sitting on the porch. He wants her to leave, but when he looks past her, he keeps his mouth firmly shut and walks away.

She's about to call out to him again, but two strong hands lift her off the floor and her concern flashes away. She's back to laughing and squirming, and simply enjoying her father's presence. He keeps her busy for the rest of the day.

Her brother only comes in for dinner, blood marring his curled fists.

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I'm six now and Shimon-nii-san is ten.

We're standing amongst crowds of strangers, showing tears that are almost too illegal to drop, but somehow we're pulling it through.

Words call out to all the assembled ears. They fall on the weak ones, the lost ones, the surviving ones...But they're calling out, acknowledging what we've lost, and that's all what most can ask for. Some of them don't even have bodies to bury, some don't even know if they're still out there on their last breath..

Our father was one of the lucky ones. He died with half of his platoon, half of his friends...His body was found, albeit worse for wear and half singed to pieces, but at least we had something to bury. Something to put a headstone on for closure.

A skinny pair of arms finally manage to lock onto me in a trembling hold. I don't have to turn around to know that it's my brother hugging me, soaking the back of my shirt. My pale hands hold onto his and although it's his sobs that fall on our ears, it's my tears that end up lasting for months.

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**Author's End Note: **_Alright, so I'll take up this section to clarify on some things. _

_Shimon is indeed, an actual character. He is canon, but a very, very, and I stress, VERY, minor canon. So I thought I'd flesh him out along with a few others..._

_Yes, there are POV changes. I realize that it might not be so wise to have such a frequent change in POV, (or to have one at all..), but I thought that I needed it a bit to...define some things._

**Question: **What POV do you prefer me writing in? Also, what minor canon character is your favorite?


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